Before
by xox.MyWorldIsDifferent.xox
Summary: They were Strike Team Delta long before S.H.I.E.L.D stepped in. Natasha and Clint, and how they became two of the world's most deadly assassins. Completely AU.
1. Prologue

**I said I was going to re-write these chapters like months ago. I also said I would have them done by that same weekend. Obviously, that didn't happen. I am so sorry.**

**Anyway, this is completely AU and follows ****Clint and Natasha throughout high school and then on into S.H.I.E.L.D. I won't lie; it may get angsty.**

**Updates could be slow. I'm very sorry about that.**

**Also, this fic contains mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse and torture. It will also feature child abuse, torture scenes, swearing, maybe graphic violence, and other things that I will warn about at the start of the chapter it's in. I don't want anyone to be triggered by these things so please read at your own risk. At this stage it may not get violent at all, but I need to clear this up if I'm going to continue with my original plan for this story.**

**Thank you for reading and please review! x**

* * *

There was the sound of a bird chirping somewhere by Clint's right ear, and he slowly turned, nocking an arrow and aiming it in the general direction of the birdsong.

The forest stilled for half a moment as Clint narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the bird. And then there was a small snap from behind him, and without thinking he swivelled, overbalanced, and sent an arrow flying towards a tree branch off to his left.

The arrow embedded easily in the bark of the tree. To Clint's surprise, a small hand reached down and pulled it out, held it in midair for a second, and then let it drop.

Clint froze as he made eye contact with a little girl who sat nestled amongst the leaves, her hair a shocking red he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. She licked her lips and brought her hand back to rest in her lap.

"You almost shot me."

Her accent was thick and her voice huskier than he would have expected from somebody her size. Clint blinked twice, trying to clear his head. The girl in the tree couldn't possibly be real. He had most likely imagined her there. To make sure, he turned his back to her, counted to ten, and then turned around to face her again. She was still there, frowning slightly and swinging her feet. He narrowed his eyes and took a step back.

"Who are you?" he asked, glancing nervously at the arrow that still lay beneath her branch.

She followed his gaze and in one swift motion launched herself out of the tree, landing on the balls of her feet. She was shorter and thinner than Clint, and had pale skin that showed blue veins on her wrists when she held her arms at the wrong angle.

He knew he needed to act fast here if he wanted to put some distance between himself and the tree girl. As she stooped to pick up his arrow he ran forward, caught her waist and pushed her to the ground, hoping to get his arrow and disappear before things could get any weirder. The girl fought back, however, smashing her elbow into his chin and knocking him backwards. Before he could react she was sitting on his stomach, glaring dangerously at him and holding his arrow at his neck.

Clint gulped.

"Who are you?" she growled, and despite the situation Clint actually smirked.

"I asked you first."

He watched her carefully as she decided on whether or not to answer. Finally, she sat up a little and said, "Natalia Romanova."

"Nice to meet you" Clint grunted. Then, because she was heavier than she looked, he pushed against her hips. "Do you wanna get off me now?"

Natalia loosened her grip on his arms marginally and moved the arrow away from his face. "No. Is your turn. Who are you?"

"I'm Clint Barton" Clint said. "I'm ten. How old are you?"

"Nine" she answered sourly, and he could tell from her expression that she didn't like the idea of being younger than him. She stood up and moved stiffly to the side, allowing him the space to get up. When he reached for her arrow she held it behind her back, shaking her head.

"That's not yours" Clint snapped. "Give it back."

"_Nyet_. Why you have these?" She gestured vaguely to his bow and the remaining arrows in his quiver.

"Because I use it to shoot things. I like archery. Is that a crime?"

"Is medieval" Natalia snorted.

"They might be medieval but it did a pretty good job of almost killing you a minute ago."

Natalia froze and, with a great sigh, handed back his arrow.

"Are you new? I haven't seen you at school" Clint asked as he checked the arrow for any discrepancies. Finding none, he tucked it back into his quiver gently.

Natalia didn't answer. When Clint looked back to her she was staring further into the trees, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. He followed her gaze but found nothing, and considering how good his eyesight was, he could assume that she wasn't actually looking at anything in particular.

He cleared his throat. "Where are you from?"

"Russia" she replied automatically, refocusing on him.

"Cool" Clint murmured. "Just you and your parents? Or do you have siblings?"

Natalia looked extremely uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed. "My uncle. Not my parents."

"Where are your parents?" Clint said. He'd never heard of anyone living with their uncles before, especially anyone moving from Russia to live with their uncles. It was almost like something he'd seen on TV once.

"Dead" she said evenly, staring at him.

He felt his lips quirk up despite his efforts to stop it. "Sorry. That must suck."

She shrugged. "I don't remember. Is not too bad."

Clint scuffed his boot in the dirt and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the dig of the leather from where the strap of his quiver sat across his chest. He tried to think of something to say to break the awkward silence that had fallen between them.

"I wish my parents would die sometimes."

He paused, considered what he had just said, and decided it was a pretty stupid way to restart the conversation.

Natalia sucked in a sharp breath. "No you don't. _Mudak_."

"I don't know what that means. But yes, I do sometimes. My dad's not a nice person."

Now that he'd started, Clint thought he might as well continue. Clint never spoke about his family if he could help it, so it was an odd feeling to be doing it now, especially to somebody who was essentially a stranger.

"But he's alive" Natalia countered, and Clint felt his anger bubble up again. Who was this girl to tell him what he should or shouldn't want? "Most people, not so lucky."

"My dad beats me up when he gets drunk" Clint finally snapped. "He broke my ribs last month."

Natalia raised one eyebrow. "You should fight back. Is not hard."

"I'm ten!" Clint cried, clenching his fists. "He's double my size and double my weight and double my age and _my dad_!"

"I fight man double my size and weight and age and _I _am one to walk away from it" Natalia growled, and Clint felt something drop in his stomach. A sick sense of fear twisted inside of him as he watched Natalia breathe heavily.

"That's great for you" Clint said sarcastically, recovering quickly. "I'm glad your uncle or whoever let you _pretend_ to beat them up. How considerate of them."

"I am Russian spy. When I beat someone up, they usually not pretending to let me."

Silence. Natalia's eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth as though trying to force the words back in. Her fingertips turned white from the pressure and for a moment Clint thought she was going to put her whole hand through her face.

Clint's fingers itched for his bow, which was still on the ground. He had heard about spies from his father; an anti-communist, Harold Barton had raised both of his sons with the idea that Russia was still trying to force capitalism out of America. Clint had never really believed what his father had told him, but suddenly he was faced with somebody who claimed to be just what his father had warned him about.

It was crazy to think that the one thing his dad had actually been telling the truth about was the most far-fetched occurrence Clint had ever heard of.

"Um" Clint offered lamely, taking a step back. "I think I need to go home now."

Natalia looked like she was about to be sick. She removed her hand from her mouth and took a shuddering breath, dropping her arms to hang limply by her sides. "You cannot tell. I am _so stupid_... Uncle Ivan bring me for better life, better education. But is all anyone else knows."

Clint stared at her. "Well, that's nice and all. But really, I have to go."

Natalia closed the gap between them and curled her fingers around the front of his shirt. "You cannot tell. Please. Don't."

Clint gave her a gentle shove away and she took the hint, backtracking quickly. He stared at her in disbelief and felt the breath leave his lungs in a great rush as the severity of the situation finally hit him. He sat down carefully in the dirt and made sure to grab his bow while he was down there.

"This is crazy" he mumbled to himself, plucking grass from beside him. "I just met you. And you're a _spy_."

Natalia looked around, as though she was afraid somebody else was listening. Cautiously, she sat down across from him, folding her bare feet beneath her legs. Her arms came up and wrapped around her waist, and she shuddered slightly as he purposefully avoided her gaze.

"This isn't real life" he said after a lengthy pause. "No way. This doesn't happen in real life."

"It does" Natalia whispered. Her eyes were wide and greener than any other eyes he had ever seen before. And she looked... scared.

Clint couldn't even begin to imagine what punishment would await a _nine year old Russian spy_ who had forgotten to keep her own secret for one tiny moment. She didn't look nearly as dangerous as his dad had told him they would. In fact, she looked just like any other girl he had ever seen at school before.

"How long are you here for?" he asked her.

"I don't know. Maybe long time, maybe short time. Uncle Ivan does not say."

She was kind of hard to understand with that accent and the way she forgot some words, but he understood enough to warrant it as an acceptable answer.

"Okay" he said slowly. "Are you going to hurt anyone?"

She didn't falter or hesitate like he thought she would. She relaxed and met his gaze evenly. "_Nyet_. No."

"Okay" he said again, feeling more comfortable in her presence now. "I won't tell anyone. 'Specially not my dad, cause he's all anti-Russia. But, your secret is safe with me."

"Yours is too" she said. "Safe with me."

"What?"

"Your secret. I won't tell."

Clint gaped at her for a moment and tried to make sense of what was happening. Was he seriously about to make a deal with a Russian spy?

"Your dad be in trouble if I tell?" she said when he didn't respond. "He go away if I tell?"

Clint sagged in defeat and nodded. "Yea. Yea, he would."

"Okay" Natalia nodded, spat into her hand and held it out for him to shake.

"Um," he began awkwardly, wiping his own hand on his jeans unconsciously. "Look, I don't –"

"Is what you Americans do, no?" she smirked. "Unless, you are baby."

Clint scowled, spat into his own hand and grasped her hand firmly. She had a strong grip for somebody whose palm was slick with saliva.

When they released hands they sat very still, suddenly feeling rather awkward.

"Are you gonna go to school here?" Clint asked. He stood up with his bow and watched Natalia also get to her feet.

"Yes" she answered, rubbing her hand dry on her shirt. "Should be good."

"Maybe we can be friends" he suggested, watching her face go slack of emotion. "Friends usually share secrets with each other."

"Maybe" Natalia echoed.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Clint shrugged, shouldered his bow and started to walk away from her.

"I would like to be your friend" he shouted behind him, though he hadn't really needed to. Natalia was trailing barely a foot away from him, off to his right, with her hands tucked into the pockets of her shorts.

"Maybe" she said softly. "You don't think I'm bad?"

"I don't know, really, cause I just met you, but..." he trailed off, squinting against the sun that assaulted his eyes when he stepped out into the clearing on the edge of the forest. "Right now you're just some girl from a tree."

"From Russia" she reminded him. "Not tree."

"Yea whatever" he said. He climbed up and over a fence, and had half a second to consider if Natalia needed help before she slipped herself under the lowest beam and came up easily beside him.

"Where you live?" she asked as they cut across a small stream and began down a gravel road.

The sun was warm on his skin, and Clint was beginning to realise that Natalia wasn't the worst company he'd ever kept. She was quiet beside him, peeking out from behind her curls to watch him as they walked.

"Just down this road." He pointed in the general direction of his house. "You?"

She pointed in the opposite direction. Along this road there were only two other houses, an abandoned farm and an old, one-storey brick house that the real estate agents had been trying to sell for a year. It was about a twenty minute walk from his house, even though all three properties were on the same stretch of gravel.

"Close to me" he mused, and stopped walking before she felt like she was welcome to come to his place. "We might see each other around."

"Yes" Natalia agreed, already putting more distance between them. "Maybe I see you tomorrow?"

Clint grinned at her and copied her movements, walking backwards away from her. "Sure. We can meet here."

"Okay" she said, her lips quirking up at the corners into an almost smile. "See you in morning."

"Okay" he repeated, and watched as she turned her back and kept walking away from him.

He watched her long after he couldn't see her, trying to figure out what exactly he had gotten himself into.

* * *

**Translations (sorry for any inaccuracy!):**

**Mudak= Asshole.**


	2. Chapter 1

**One of the biggest changes I made in the new chapters was the way that Natasha speaks. I think that even with her training her English would not be perfect, and so tried to replicate that.**

**Warning: mentions of child abuse.**

**Please review x**

* * *

Clint cradled his fractured wrist awkwardly to his chest and tried to ignore the itch he felt as he watched Natalia climb higher up the tree at the end of his backyard. She swung gracefully from branch to branch, occasionally stumbling on rough pieces of bark and having to hang precariously as she regained her balance.

Clint groaned and sat at the base of the tree, rolling his shoulder uncomfortably. "I hate this sling!" he yelled up to Natalia, tilting his head to get a better view of her. He picked at the material of the sling and scowled.

He had walked halfway between his place and Natalia's to meet her that morning. He wasn't sure why; with a fractured wrist, there wasn't much he could do, and from what he had seen of Natalia so far, she liked to be active.

It had only been a week since their first encounter in the forest, but Clint found himself becoming more and more interested in the strange girl who claimed to be a Russian spy. She was different to anyone else he had ever met before, but he was bored out of his mind sitting around whilst she got to climb and play.

"This is unfair" he huffed.

Natalia found a thick enough branch to sit on and swung her legs, looking out over Clint's backyard and mentally cataloguing all of the possible routes in and out. "Life is unfair" she called down to him.

"Nope" Clint decided, shaking his head. He pulled the sling off from around his neck and tossed it to the ground beside him. "I'm not wearing it."

Natalia didn't respond, which wasn't unusual. She was more of a listener, and didn't exactly understand how to interact with other people, specifically Clint, who tended to talk enough for the both of them.

"Do you reckon I could climb with only one arm?" he asked her, tilting his head up to find where she was sitting.

"No" she replied smoothly. "Is supposed to be resting."

"You ever broken a bone?"

Silence. Clint let his chin fall to his chest and ran his hand through his hair angrily. This was _unfair_. Why did his wrist have to be fractured during the sunniest weekend in history?

He heard the slight rustle of leaves a second before Natalia landed beside him. She had scraped her knees somehow and bent to examine the angry red flesh, brushing her fingers over the wounds to wipe away the tiny droplets of blood. Then she flopped down beside him on her back and picked a handful of daisies.

She had already strung five together when she rolled her head around to see what Clint was doing. "What's that?" she asked, and tapped her ear as if to show him what she was talking about.

"It's a hearing aid" he replied, reaching up unconsciously to run his index finger over the plastic that wrapped behind his ear. "Helps me... hear."

"How?"

"Well, there's a microphone that picks up sound, and amplifies it to –"

"_No_." A line appeared between Natalia's brows. "How you get them?"

Clint clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. "I wasn't born with it. My dad, uh, had a little too much to drink. Threw me around a bit. I was six. I don't remember what happened."

Natalia frowned and threaded another daisy onto her chain. "There was big bang? Near your head?"

Clint shot her a look. "What do you mean?"

"Once, there was girl in Russia, who had grenade explode too close. She lost hearing." Natalia didn't meet his gaze, keeping her eyes focused on the growing daisy chain.

Clint gaped at her for a moment and considered how to respond. He was shocked that she had even started the conversation, let alone offered information about herself. He had assumed that, if she were training to be a Russian spy – and he would never find that not weird, no matter how many times he thought about it – then the beginning of her life would have been pretty horrible.

"I don't know. I woke up in hospital. There were bandages over my ears, but I... what could have made a bang loud enough for me to lose my hearing?" he wondered.

Natalia stared at him blankly. "Grenade."

"We don't exactly have grenades lying around in the house" Clint said. Then, "have you always been a spy?"

Natalia tensed and accidentally broke the stem of her next daisy. Clint couldn't hear her breathing, but after a moment she said, "No."

Clint was curious, but he didn't really want to push it. Instead, he started to fill his discarded sling with grass and dirt. Might as well be good for something.

"I was four when I start" she said quietly, when the sling was halfway full. "The Red Room is like big school. Does not always feel like..."

Clint nodded, though he didn't really get what she was saying. The Red Room? What the hell was that? "So, uh, the other day you said you didn't have siblings. Don't you get bored?"

"I don't think I did" she responded vaguely, finishing her daisy chain and holding it out to examine. "But I is never bored."

Clint frowned. "How do you not know? About your siblings?"

"I remember little bits. From before school, but I not know that they are all real" she explained carefully. "They change things."

Clint swallowed. "Like what?"

"Memories. They put fake ones in, and is real for you, feels real, but is not real. Is fake. Is trick." She spat the last word like it caused her physical pain to speak it. "Is big holes in my brain."

Clint didn't really understand that, either. But what Natalia was telling him made him feel uncomfortable, and he wasn't exactly upset when she lapsed into silence again. He searched around the base of a tree for a twig to stick down his itchy cast.

Natalia was sneaking looks at him when she thought he wasn't looking. His hand closed around a suitable enough twig and he sighed in relief as it found the itch that had been bothering him.

"God, I can't wait for this to come off" Clint said.

Natalia blinked at him and sat up, placing the daisy chain atop of her head. "When?"

"Another four weeks" he groaned, slumping down in defeat. "Unless it heals super fast."

"Your dad" she started carefully, watching him. "He go?"

Clint felt his stomach clench at the mention of his father and took a deep, unsteady breath. His right arm throbbed beneath the cast and he suddenly felt nauseas.

"I don't know" he managed to spit out. "I don't care."

Natalia bit her lip and tilted her head to the side, letting her red curls fall over her shoulder in an unruly tangle. The daisy chin slipped and fell over one of her ears but she made no move to fix it, or to say anything else.

"He left when mum rang from the hospital, I suppose" Clint said, trying hard to not look like he was about to cry. "That's what he usually does when it's worse than normal."

After it was discovered that Clint was deaf, Harold had also packed up then and left for a few weeks, leaving his wife to look after her two young sons. Clint felt that he owed his mother more than he could ever repay her for sticking around and helping him with his new disability. He knew that not many kids had somebody who would do that for them.

Now, years later, a fractured wrist and a few large bruises along his torso and back were the physical evidence of his father's latest outburst, but Clint found that he was also struggling mentally in a way he never had before; he could barely think about his father without feeling sick now, and he'd awoken countless times over the past few nights from nightmares.

Harold Barton, despite being blind drunk, usually had enough sense to stop himself from leaving any visible marks. Clint had never been sure if he was grateful for this or not.

Natalia scooted an inch closer to him and raised her arm to lie on his leg, but she hesitated and let it hover between them for a moment. He understood the gesture and nodded at her, blinking back angry tears.

"How you speak when..?" Natalia waved towards her ears, smoothly changing the subject.

He made a gesture with his hands and watched her stare in confusion, grinning like mad when he realised she had absolutely no idea what he was doing. "Sign language" he elaborated. "I learnt it after the accident. Mum knows a bit too, but not much."

Natalia looked intrigued. "Teach me."

"If you teach me Russian," Clint said, grin still firmly in place, "Then we can have whole conversations that no one else will understand."

"Okay. _Da_" Natalia agreed, and then spat on the palm of her hand and held it out to him. He did the same, no longer concerned about germs or anything, and they shook on it, wiping their hands on their shorts when they broke apart.

The setting sun cast an eerie shadow over their corner of the backyard. Natalia stared at it wistfully for a minute and then stood. "I go now."

Clint dumped the contents of the sling and tried to wipe any remaining dirt out of the bottom of it. Then he tucked his arm back into it and looped it over his neck, letting the sling take the weight of his cast. His fingers twitched, and it had been way too long since he had last held his bow.

"I'll get mum to drop you off" he offered as they walked towards the gravel road.

"No, is okay" Natalia assured him. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked in the direction of her house. "Uncle Ivan does not like cars near house. _Strange_ cars near house."

"You've got no shoes," he noticed. "You can't walk with no shoes."

"No, is okay Clint. Is fine." She gave him the first real smile he'd ever seen on her face and he begrudgingly nodded and stepped back. Clint didn't like the idea of Natalia walking home alone but knew that there was no point arguing with her.

"'Kay then, I'll see you at school."

She gave a little wave and pivoted on the spot, walking closer to the middle of the road where the stones were smaller and less likely to damage her feet.

"Hey Clint?" she called back to him suddenly, pausing mid step.

"Yea?" he responded, rolling his shoulder again. God, that damn sling would be the death of him. "What?"

"What is thank you? In sign language?"

He showed her and watched as, without the slightest ounce of hesitation, she brought her fingers away from her chin in a perfect replication of his own sign, before disappearing down the dusty road.


	3. Chapter 2

**Warning: mentions of child abuse. **

**Please review and thank you x**

* * *

Natalia stood perfectly still beside Ivan, keeping her head down and her arms locked by her sides as he spoke with somebody on his phone. He was supposed to be meeting with an intelligence officer from Russia, which was the only reason he had decided to drop her off that morning; a school environment was apparently the least suspicious place for them to discuss where her training was going to go.

She could tell that people were purposefully avoiding walking too close to them. Ivan had an intimidating persona about him, even though he looked exactly like every other father that walked through the gates. Natalia forced herself to relax, letting her tiny frame stoop slightly and raising her head to scan across the playground.

She had just focused on a group of girls from her class when Ivan snapped his phone shut and moved to block her view.

"_Zhalkiy_" he muttered, giving her a once over. "_Net distsipliny_."

Natalia straightened immediately and averted her gaze to stare at Ivan's shoes. "_Izvinite_" she murmured, feeling heat rise up her neck.

Ivan pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a step away from her. "If you are not disciplined, Natalia, then you cannot expect to get very far in this program."

"I'm sorry" she repeated. "In America, children are not discipline all the time. I try to fit in."

Ivan glared at her, and she swallowed, regretting her words almost instantly. "The children in America are weak" he said. "You are not to fall for their stupidity." He took a long drag from his cigarette. "You want to fit in? Learn how to speak the fucking language properly."

Natalia bit her tongue until she tasted blood and fought the urge to spit it out on his shoes. She was halfway through seriously contemplating it when they were joined by the intelligence officer, a young man with military cropped hair and steely grey eyes. Natalia vaguely remembered trying to claw his eyes out when she was younger, though she couldn't exactly recall _why _she had attempted to.

"I was expecting Barnes" Ivan said, eyes narrowed at the other man. "Though it is good to see you, Mikhail."

Natalia assumed that Mikhail was not the man's real name, but she also knew not to assume anything, so she let the thought leave her mind and concentrated once more on what was being said.

"Barnes is otherwise occupied" Mikhail said lowly. "In your absence, Olgov decided that I was the next best option."

Ivan rubbed his hand over his chin thoughtfully. "I hope that Olgov enjoyed his time as my second in command."

Mikhail smirked and turned to face Natalia. She wasn't sure if he recognised her, but even if he did he kept his face expressionless, offering her his hand to shake. "Who are you?"

She took his hand firmly in her own and met his gaze evenly. "Natalia Romanova."

"Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you" he said. "How old are you?"

"Nine."

"And you are loyal to whom?"

Natalia didn't hesitate before answering. "Mother Russia. Everything I do is for benefit of my country."

Mikhail nodded. "Do you enjoy staying here in America? Or would you prefer to be back in Russia?"

Her thoughts turned to Clint, and how much nicer he was to her than the girls in the Red Room program. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to think of a way to leave Clint out of this. If Ivan or Mikhail found out that she had made a friend for herself then there would be no stopping them; she'd be dragged back to Russia in the blink of an eye.

"I think is better to my training to observe another culture" she said slowly. "Is also easier to train without other girls in my way."

Mikhail faced Ivan. "Madame contacted you about sending someone. She was concerned that the girl would grow weak."

Ivan laughed bitterly. "Madame may run the organisation, but she does not have a say in the training of the girls. That is my job."

"I would never question you about the training of Romanova" Mikhail said smoothly. "But Madame wanted somebody to check. She does not want her product damaged."

Natalia had a bare understanding of the hierarchy of the Red Room; Madame invested in the girls, payed for the equipment, and ran the organisation from her office; Ivan recruited and trained, sitting directly below Madame in terms of power; Olgov had been Ivan's second in command until moments ago, and people like Barnes and Mikhail were there to assist the training process.

The girls were at the bottom of this pyramid, probably under the kitchen staff. For a group of people deemed so important, they were usually treated as nothing more than worthless scraps.

"Fine" Ivan relented. "You are the next best after Barnes, and there is no point waiting for him when you are here."

Natalia took a deep breath and tuned the rest of the conversation out, not really caring what was going to happen anymore. She looked around and noticed Clint standing by one of the buildings on his own, watching her in concern. He saw her looking and offered a small smile and a little wave. She didn't respond, not wanting to draw any extra attention to Clint when Mikhail was around.

_Okay?_ He signed to her, and she clenched her fist by her side, moving it slowly up and down to answer him.

He frowned, and then pushed his two pointer fingers together in another question. _Hurt?_

She brought her pointer and middle fingers together and tapped them with her thumb, giving her head a slight shake. _No_.

"I think that we should start her assessment immediately" Mikhail told Ivan. "We need to make the most of my time in this country. Attending school today will be a waste of time."

Ivan nodded and gestured vaguely behind him. "The car is across the street."

They set off without asking Natalia what she thought about the situation. She half spun back towards Clint, and quickly signed a short message to him. _Meet on the road after school_.

Clint nodded once, brow furrowed in concern, but she was out of time; quickly, she took three half-leap steps to catch up to Ivan and Mikhail. If they had noticed her brief absence, they didn't say anything.

She took a deep breath, let Mikhail open the car door for her, and began to prepare herself for a gruelling day.

* * *

Natalia was on her fifth lap around the field, though she was sure that neither Ivan nor Mikhail were paying attention to her. Her lungs burned and her legs screamed in process as she prepared to launch herself over the fence that was fast approaching.

She jumped, landed her foot on the lowest beam, and used her hands on the top beam to boost herself over. She felt herself lose momentum and twisted midair, landing on her shoulder and rolling smoothly on the other side of the fence. She stood up on shaky legs, and panting, began to make her way over to where the two older men were sitting.

Mikhail looked impressed with her. "That was the fastest recorded time out of all of the other girls, Natalia. You should be pleased."

Natalia was anything but pleased. She was angry and frustrated that she was missing school for this; running laps and doing push ups in a field a couple of minutes from her house was not how she wanted to spend the day. Ivan noted something down on a piece of paper before he looked up at her. "You will spar with Mikhail, now."

Mikhail stood, shrugged out of his jacket and led the way to where Ivan had marked out the makeshift ring. Gulping breaths of air, she followed behind him slowly, trying to buy herself more time before the fight.

As soon as she was in the ring Mikhail lunged, and she had barely enough time to duck and roll away. Natalia settled into a loose fighting stance and watched through narrowed eyes as Mikhail did the same. They danced around each other, Natalia not wanting to attack, but Mikhail kept drawing her out towards him so that she had no other choice.

The first blow he blocked, and the second and the third, so she feinted to the left, pretending to kick out at his kneecap but instead twisting to land a solid blow to the side of his stomach. He swung back, connected with her sternum, and she retaliated by going for his kneecap again.

She connected, pushed her foot off of his knee and somehow managed to use the force to drive her elbow into his nose. Mikhail grabbed for her, got an arm around her middle, and swung her upside down.

She remembered now, why'd she tried to claw Mikhail's eyes out when she was younger; he had been fighting her, and had pulled the same move then that he was using now. Taking a breath and forcing the memories down, she bent at the middle, got one arm out of his grip, and raked her nails down his face.

His hold on her loosened marginally, enough that she could get both hands up to his face and try to push her fingers into his eyes. He spun so fast that she lost balance and toppled to the dirt beneath him.

Natalia tried to jump up straight away, but he brought his boot down on her stomach and pinned her, glaring down. The right side of his face was marred with three long scratches, which were slowly but surely beginning to bleed.

Ivan called them back over, and Natalia stood carefully, taking note of what parts of her body were sore. She let Mikhail get a far distance away from her before she followed him.

"Interesting" was all Ivan said when she reached him. He handed her a water bottle that she took a sip from, not wanting to look desperate.

Mikhail yanked the bottle from her grasp and instead pushed her towards a small, portable table that had been set up beside the car.

"You are to reassemble this gun in half a minute" Mikhail told her. "Or we will leave you here to sleep outside."

"Glock 26, 9mm G3" she commented to herself as she observed the gun in front of her. "10 round magazine."

Mikhail started the countdown.

Natalia reached for the first thing she could grab and felt her brain speed up, her training kicking in within seconds. She blocked everything out, locked away her thoughts on school and Clint and life, and focused entirely on the gun in her hand.

She placed it back on the table, fully assembled and loaded, and watched Mikhail click a button on the timer. He showed the time to Ivan, who turned to glance at her from where he sat on the fence.

"You need to be faster. Keep going until you improve."

Natalia wanted nothing more than to sit down and have a real drink of water. She picked up the gun again and started over, again and again and again, each time not being fast enough to please Ivan or Mikhail. Her back ached, her leg muscles were protesting against standing for so long and she felt light headed.

Finally, she slammed the gun down and Ivan did not tell her to try again. She felt relief wash over her in waves as Mikhail took the gun and placed it in the car. He gestured vaguely to the table. "Fold this up. You can carry it home."

Natalia could tell that Mikhail was angry at her, whether it was because she had scarred his face or because she had managed to impress Ivan. She didn't question her orders though, and watched as Ivan and Mikhail piled into the car and sped off down the gravel road, leaving her with the table.

Scowling, she quickly folded the table, hefted it under one arm, and began the slow walk back home.

* * *

After school Clint found Natalia where she'd said she would be; by the side of the road, sitting in the gravel and throwing rocks at a tree a few feet away.

He sat opposite her. "Hi."

"Hi."

Clint let the silence drag on for a minute. He piled rocks beside Natalia's leg so that she didn't have to stretch for them and even threw a few of them himself. They bounced off the tree and landed roughly in the same vicinity of each other. He squinted, trying to see if there was anything else he could throw them at that would present more of a challenge.

"We go" Natalia said abruptly, standing up. "Come on."

"Okay" he said.

They cut across the gravel road and jumped the stream when they reached it. She was taking him to the forest, he realised, but kept quiet as he trailed after her. At the fence she dropped down to her stomach and wiggled under the beam, and Clint pulled himself up and over.

The clearing came into view. Natalia slowed to the point where Clint had to slow too, and then they were barely moving at all, just taking little half steps every now and then.

"What's up?" Clint asked when he was sure she wasn't going to start the conversation.

Natalia shook her head and muttered something that Clint didn't catch. He frowned at her.

"Hey, who was that guy with you and your uncle?"

She turned her head to glare at him. "I not want to talk about him."

"Okay" Clint agreed. "Oh, you missed a fight at school today. Some kid got a bloody nose."

"Of course when I am not there" she smirked. "I can show them real fight."

Clint laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Natalia hugged her arms around her midsection and chewed her bottom lip as they lapsed into silence once more.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest Clint's stomach was grumbling. He'd come straight from school to meet Natalia, and hadn't had time for a snack in between. He sat down on the grass, pulled his backpack around to his front and unzipped it to pull out his lunchbox.

He offered her half of the second sandwich that he'd packed that morning; Natalia didn't often bring her own lunch, so he had decided to pack one for her today so he didn't have to split his. It was a good thing he did, otherwise they wouldn't have anything.

Natalia accepted the sandwich and sat heavily beside him. She chewed quietly and Clint, feeling brave, scooted an inch closer so their arms were touching.

"I know you said you didn't want to talk about him, but" he trailed off and glanced at Natalia out of the corner of his eye. "Is he bad?"

"_Nyet_" she answered after a slight pause. "He want me go back to Russia. Uncle Ivan say no."

Clint let out a deep breath. "That's good then, right?"

"Is better than normal."

Clint finished his half of the sandwich and started to divide the grapes into two piles. Natalia wiped her hands clean on her shirt and reached out for her pile with a small smile on her face.

"Natalia –"

"Natasha" she said softly, rolling a grape between her thumb and index finger.

Clint stared. "What?"

"Natasha" she repeated, and signed it for him. "Is for friends."

Clint frowned and signed it back to her, followed by a question mark. Her smile grew a little.

"Natalia is real name, but Natasha is for friends. Form of name for friends" she explained. "Also, is so your dad not get angry. Natalia Romanova is very Russian."

"You don't have to change your name for my dad" Clint snapped.

"Is not only for him" she snapped right back, glaring. "Is for friends."

"Oh." Clint felt something warm build up in his chest at Natalia – no, _Natasha's_ – words. She was his friend. He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him their friend.

Natasha threw a grape at his face and laughed when he caught it in his mouth. "Good catch."

"Good aim" Clint said, and then, "Natasha, are you okay?"

She tilted her head to the side and considered his question. "I'm fine."

Clint smiled sadly. "You say that a lot."

"Is true, Clint. Today was hard. But I am fine."

Clint nodded and watched as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. He packed up his lunchbox, pushed his arms back through the straps of his backpack, and stood up. "You can tell me if you're not okay. You know that, right?"

_Of course I know_, Natasha signed. _You are a good friend_.

And then, because that was all she could remember of what Clint had taught her, she punched him in the arm and said, "_Vy slishkom dobry_."

Clint had no idea what that meant, but he couldn't keep the smile off of his face for the rest of the walk home.

* * *

**Translations (sorry for any inaccuracy!):**

**Zhalkiy= Pathetic**

**Net distsipliny= No discipline.**

**Izvinite= Sorry.**

**Nyet= No.**

**Vy slishkom dobry= You are too kind. **


	4. Chapter 3

**I will try to update as quickly as I can. This was just a filler that wouldn't leave me alone. **

**Clint and Natasha are still 10 and 9 respectively. Also, when they speak in ASL the writing will be italicized. Hopefully this won't get too confusing.**

**Thank you for reading and please review x**

* * *

Clint laid still on his back, head tilted sideways and hand extended as he watched a small rabbit nibble grass a few paces to his left. He kept his arm steady, making sure that the greener, fresher grass resting in the palm of his hand was on full display to the rabbit.

He made a soft clucking noise and watched the rabbit's head turn in his general direction. Its eyes landed on his hand and the grass, and cautiously it moved a little closer, nose in the air as it tried to decipher whether or not he was an immediate threat.

Clint held his breath as the rabbit's soft fur brushed the tips of his fingers. It ate quickly and then began to slow down and relax, allowing Clint to scratch the top of its head gently. He was halfway through the process of sitting up when the rabbit paused, sniffed, and then bounced away down the side of the house.

With a sigh Clint flopped back onto his back, shielding his eyes with one arm draped across his face, wondering what could have scared the rabbit off so quickly.

"You need teach me English."

Natasha stopped above Clint, blocking the sun with her shadow. He squinted up at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious or not.

"You _can_ speak English" Clint said eventually.

"No, need to speak properly" she snapped. "With right words."

"Okay" he said, and sat up again. "You're not that bad, you know."

"You're not that bad, you know" she mimicked slowly.

"No" Clint said immediately. "Don't copy me."

Natasha pouted and shrugged. "Okay. We go now?"

Clint shouldered his quiver and picked up his bow before following Natasha out of his backyard. There was rarely ever traffic along the gravel road so they walked down the middle of it, taking their time in the sun. Natasha swung a bucket in front of her, occasionally glancing at Clint but otherwise remaining silent.

When they reached the stream Natasha wasted no time in kicking off her shoes and socks before rolling her pant legs up and bounding into the water.

"Is good" she called to Clint as she waded further down the stream. "Come on."

Clint hid his bow and quiver in some long grass near a rock and carefully took his own shoes off. Natasha was quite a fair distance away, bucket dangling from her fingers, when Clint made his way over to the edge of the stream and dipped his toe in.

"Argh!" he cried, jumping back. "It's freezing!"

"Is not." He heard Natasha laugh. "Baby."

Grumbling under his breath, Clint took a deep breath and stepped into the stream before he could change his mind. The water burned his ankles as he quickly made his way over to where Natasha had stopped by a rotted log.

"Fish" she pointed out to him as he stopped beside her. Her brow furrowed as she leaned down for a closer look. "Wait. What."

Clint bent down too. "Oh. Those are tadpoles, Nat. Baby frogs."

Natasha took a step back, unsettling the water and sending the tadpoles swimming off in different directions. Clint laughed at the look of disgust on her face.

"It's just a tadpole. They're harmless. We can catch them instead of fish" Clint said.

Natasha stared at him and then thrust the bucket out towards him. "You first."

Clint shrugged, took the bucket, and dunked it under the water. He moved around, trying to scoop as much as he could up, and then pulled it out of the water and carried it over to the embankment. Natasha trailed behind him slowly, eyes trained on the water until she was safely on dry land.

Clint stuck his hand in the bucket and tried to feel for any tadpoles.

"Is not looking good" Natasha commented, crouching by the bucket. She stuck her own hand in and came up with a fistful of mud. "You just got mud."

"If we take all the mud out, it might make it easier to see them" Clint suggested. "But just make sure there are none _in_ the mud."

He used both hands to scoop out the mud, dumping it onto the grass and then checking it carefully, but he still hadn't found any by the time the water was clear. Nothing inside the bucket moved, not even when he created a mini whirlpool with his finger.

"Nothing in there" Natasha said wistfully, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Try again."

"It's your turn now" Clint told her, tipping the water out and then handing the bucket over.

Natasha carefully waded back into the stream and moved a little further away from where Clint had first tried to catch the tadpoles. She stood still and slowly lowered the bucket into the water, barely breaching the surface and letting the water flow in naturally.

By the time she had made her way back to the embankment Clint could hardly sit still, filled with nervous anticipation. Natasha deposited the bucket in front of him and knelt down to inspect what she had collected at the same time as a tiny tadpole swam up to the surface of the bucket.

"Got one!" Natasha declared as Clint fist pumped the air and cheered. He raised his hand for a high five and felt his smile slip when Natasha visibly flinched and frowned at him.

"C'mon Nat, don't tell me you don't know how to high five?" Clint teased, trying to keep his voice light.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and took a cautious step forward before raising her hand and pressing it to Clint's. She looked up at him curiously, still frowning.

"Like this?"

"More like this," Clint said, before drawing his hand back and then bringing it forward slowly, clapping it against Natasha's. "You do it at the same time, though."

"Okay" Natasha said, and drew her hand back. This time when their hands connected there was an audible 'clap' noise and Natasha was smiling when she lowered her hand.

"Cool huh?" Clint said as he squatted beside the bucket again. "That's what friends do, ya know, when something good happens."

"Cool" Natasha said slowly, testing the word. "What we do with him?"

Clint reached into the bucket to try and touch the tadpole. "I don't know. We could take it home."

"He be lonely" Natasha stated, looking out over the stream. "We get more?"

"He _would _be lonely" Clint corrected her, and she scowled, hands flying to her hips.

"I am _not _stupid" she said icily. "I know not all words but I am not stupid."

"Woah" Clint said, standing up and holding his hands out in front of him as a sign of peace. "You told me to help you with your English. I was just helping."

Natasha paused and stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then she sagged slightly and shook her head, hands clenching into fists. "Sorry" she muttered. "I... I forgot."

Clint swallowed and shrugged, brushing it off. "It's okay. If you want we could try to get more."

Natasha didn't answer him and Clint sighed, feeling defeated.

"Oi! Clint!"A voice sounded from across the stream.

Clint turned to see his brother standing on the road, one foot on the pedal of his bike and the other balancing his weight as he made a motion for Clint to come over.

Clint shielded his eyes with his hand and shouted back, "What?"

"Mum wants you two to come home" Barney yelled. "Right now."

Clint groaned but reluctantly nodded. "We'll just put our shoes on."

Barney turned his bike and pedalled off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Natasha was already lacing her shoes when Clint bent to pick up the bucket of water.

"We in trouble?" she asked as she unrolled her pant legs.

"Nah" Clint answered, carrying the bucket over to his bow and quiver. "Mum wants me to get a haircut."

"Oh" Natasha said softly, brow furrowed. She reached up cautiously and tugged on a strand of his hair, looking at it closely. "Is not so long."

"That's what I told her" Clint exclaimed, trying to shoulder his quiver and carry both the bucket and his bow at the same time. "Damn. Take this would you?"

Natasha held the bow gingerly in her hands, running her thumbs over the smooth wood carefully. Clint shoved his feet into his sneakers and stomped to make sure they were on properly before indicating for Natasha to follow him.

Natasha kept both hands on the bow at all times as they made their way down the road. Clint struggled with the weight of the bucket and felt like swapping with Natasha, but she looked almost _happy_ to be holding his bow so he decided not to bother her.

Clint's mother was waiting for them with the car running, hands on her hips as she stood in front of the back door. She met them halfway up the driveway and took the bucket from Clint's hands, turning them both back towards the car.

"Get in quickly, or else we'll... what is in this bucket Clinton?" Edith paused in the motion of tipping the water onto the garden as something darted from one side of the bucket to the other.

Natasha snorted at the mention of Clint's full name and he elbowed her in the stomach, scowling. "Mum, it's our tadpole. You can't tip him out."

Edith sighed and placed the bucket behind the steps that led to the back door before heading back over to the car and opening the door for the two of them to get in, taking Clint's bow from Natasha's hands as she passed.

"No weapons in the back seat" Edith scolded, and placed the bow in the trunk of the car. She eyed the two of them warily as she climbed into the car and pulled her seatbelt across her body. "You two..." She let the sentence trail off and instead concentrated on backing out of the driveway.

They were almost at Natasha's house when Clint remembered what she had once said about her uncle and strange cars. Beside him, Natasha was sitting straight and tense, her fingers digging into the seat of the car as they slowly drew closer. She looked terrified, and Clint didn't want her going back if he could help it.

"Mum, Natasha's uncle isn't home" he piped up suddenly, surprising himself. "I forgot to tell you. He's out all day."

Natasha turned to stare at him, her forehead crinkled in confusion. _What?_

She had just finished signing when Edith spun in her seat to glare at Clint. "What do you mean, 'you forgot to tell me'? My God, Clinton." She turned to glance at Natasha, who shrugged and relaxed back into the seat.

"Is true" Natasha told her. "He went out, all day."

Edith sighed loudly and started the car again, turning in a large circle so that they could come back they way they had started from. "Fine, Natasha can come with us. Then she's going home, okay?"

"Okay" they chorused, grinning at each other and high-fiving once they were sure that Edith had lost interest in them.

_Thank you_, Natasha signed.

_You're welcome_, Clint replied, and they fell into an easy silence.

* * *

"Aww, hair, no" Clint groaned as he passed by a store window and caught sight of his hair. The hairdresser had cut it short and styled it with gel so that the ends were spiked up, and it felt uncomfortable; weird and foreign on his head.

Natasha bumped her shoulder against his. "Is not so bad. Is 'new trend'."

Clint kind of hated the hairdresser for teaching Natasha about trends, and he kind of hated that she had had to sit with him the entire time whilst Edith went to withdraw some cash.

"It is" he complained, running his hand through the sticky spikes. "It is _the worst_."

Natasha rolled her eyes at him but didn't bother replying as she suddenly caught sight of a small bookstore that was tucked away between two much larger stores. She turned to Clint, eyes alight with excitement. _Can we?_

_Sure_. Clint tugged on Edith's sleeve and pointed over to the bookstore when he had her attention. "Can we go in there? Just for a bit, until you finish getting your shoes." He gave her his best smile. "Please, mum?"

"Fine" Edith sighed. "But don't leave the store, do not speak to anyone, and so help me Clinton, if I even hear that either of you have done anything –"

"Thanks mum" Clint interrupted, grabbing Natasha's wrist and dragging her towards the bookstore before Edith could finish her sentence.

Natasha pulled her arm free and wandered around the books, running her fingers over the spines of a few and pausing to try and read the titles correctly. Clint didn't really like books, but figured if Natasha was happy then he was doing something right, so he went and sat on one of the armchairs in the corner, picking a novel off of the coffee table at his feet and turning to a page at random.

He wasn't sure how long he sat, just that when Natasha came over and dumped a large, hard cover book in his lap, he hadn't made much progress with the novel. He placed it to the side and instead picked up the heavy book, turning it over to see its cover.

"American Sign Language Dictionary?" he read out loud, glancing up at Natasha. "Where did you find this?"

"Somewhere" she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Looks good, though."

Clint flipped through the first few pages and shook his head, feeling a dopey grin slip onto his face. "Wow, Nat. This is amazing."

Natasha was grinning too, a bigger smile than he had ever seen on her face before. "I thought you might like" she told him. "So I grab before other people."

Clint couldn't believe that Natasha had found such an amazing book that was dedicated completely to ASL. It was like Christmas had come early, and he couldn't help but jump up and yell out when he saw his mother beckoning for them to come outside of the bookstore.

"Mum, quick, you have to look. Please, please, come look!"

Edith didn't look too impressed but made her way into the store, dutifully accepting the book from Clint when he handed it to her.

"Sign Language, hmm? You already know quite a bit, Clint" she said. "I thought you knew enough."

"Please mum" Clint begged. "Look at it. It's massive! It's full of really cool things. It's even educational. C'mon mum, please."

Natasha nodded enthusiastically from beside Clint and smiled, widening her eyes. "Is good, Mrs Barton. Is very educational."

Edith let out a deep breath and relented, heading over to the counter to pay. Clint trailed after her, hardly able to contain his excitement as the book was bagged and the money was handed over.

"Thank you mum, you're the best!" he cheered when Edith handed him the bag, and the clerk gave him and Natasha a free bookmark each as they left.

Clint didn't stop smiling until they pulled into Natasha's driveway almost an hour later. He saw a head appear in the window before the blinds were quickly drawn, and Edith must have noticed too, because when she turned to Natasha she was frowning.

"Is your uncle home now?" she asked.

"_Da_. Yes. Thank you" Natasha replied. Her face was pale when she turned to Clint and pressed her bookmark into his hands.

_Keep safe_ she signed. _See you tomorrow?_

_Of course_. Clint tucked the bookmark into the bag and watched her get out of the car. When she reached the porch the door opened and her uncle came out, smiling and waving at Edith. Clint felt his insides turn to ice as Natasha quickly slipped into the house, and when the door had slammed behind the two of them they sat in the car for a moment, just watching; waiting, as though something bad was going to happen right at that moment.

Finally, Edith put the car into reverse and began to back out onto the road. "Natasha's uncle seems nice" she said, but her voice was strained, and she sped off without a second glance at the house.

Clint didn't respond. He felt like his stomach had twisted into one hundred knots, and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. He had to believe that Natasha would be okay.

She was strong. She was okay.

Clint swallowed heavily, laid his head back, and tried to convince himself that everything would be fine.


	5. Chapter 4

**This took a crazy amount of time for me to update and I'm sorry. It's not even really a good update, just a quick filler. I finished Year 11 exams last week so hopefully when school holidays start (in 2 weeks) I'll be able to update more often. Thank you for those of you who have stuck with this and put up with my horrible updating schedule, if you could even call it a schedule. **

****Please review and thank you x****

* * *

"They teach English like I am stupid." Natasha dropped to the ground ungracefully and stretched out on her back, arm thrown over her face. "I am _not _stupid."

Clint shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. "I know that."

"Because I know not all words" she continued. "They say, 'oh look, Natalia cannot read, she is stupid'. I can read but is slow. I like see them read Russian when they know not all words."

"I don't care if you can't read," Clint said.

Natasha sat up and rolled her eyes before taking the sandwich he had packed her. "I _know _that."

"Then who cares. They're just teachers. They did the same to me when I first started school." Clint finished his sandwich and split his cookie in two, giving half to Natasha. She eyed him curiously as she chewed.

"What?"

"You speak English" she said. "Why they call you stupid too?"

"I only started school like, the end of last year. I lived in a circus before that" he told her.

Natasha snorted and switched to sign language whilst she finished her mouthful. _You didn't tell me that._

_You didn't ask_ Clint countered, leaning back against the trunk of the tree they sat beneath. _It's not really something I share anyway._

_Tell me_. Natasha sat forward, eyes gleaming, and if it was anyone else asking Clint would have said no. But she had that look on her face that he didn't see often, and he would probably do anything she asked of him, regardless of the consequences.

"I was raised in a circus with my brother. We were always travelling around, never staying in one place for too long. When I was a little older they taught me how to use a bow and gave me my own act. It was called Hawkeye, cause my eyes are good or something. I didn't do much, really. Cleaned cages, mostly. It was alright." Clint smiled a little at the memory, because he would be kidding himself if he said that he hadn't enjoyed the circus at all.

"But dad was trouble, and circus folk don't like trouble. One day they decided it was time for us to go, cause we were always having to watch out for Child Protection, and then dad got in a huge argument with them all. He was pretty drunk. Next thing I remember is waking up and not being able to hear nothing. Thought it was my dad's fault but..." he trailed off, squinting out at the playground.

Natasha cocked her head to one side, like she was thinking deeply. "Now not so sure?"

"Yea" Clint said gruffly. "The hospital bills were pretty expensive. Child Protection was making a huge deal out of everything and we weren't allowed to see mum and dad for a while. I dunno how we got enough money to pay for it all, but we got a house and got settled in and then Child Protection was saying I had to go to school. It wasn't like I was stupid; the circus had taught me how to read and write and count and all that stuff, but the teachers thought I was dumb cause I was a carnie. It's hard to catch up."

Natasha pursed her lips and rolled her shoulders. "Is interesting story. _Hawkeye_. Is sign for that?"

"Nah" Clint said. "You have to spell it out."

Natasha angled her body to face him. _Show me._

_H_-_A_-_W_-_K_-_E_-_Y_-_E_. Clint watched Natasha's fingers stumble slightly as she copied him and smiled easily when she looked up for reassurance. _Good job_.

Natasha almost smiled, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. _If teachers could see this they wouldn't think I was stupid_.

Clint didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all.

"Is hard, sometimes", Natasha murmured after a moment, squinting against the sun.

"I know" Clint said without asking what she was talking about. "I know that."

"Good" Natasha said firmly. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and turning her attention back to the playground. "What it is like, to go on swing?"

Clint shrugged. "Like flying or something. Have you never been on a swing?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Is not part of training."

_I'll take you one day, _Clint told her, and spat on his hand.

Natasha smiled widely, her teeth glinting, and took his hand in her own, shaking firmly before signing, _I'd like that._

* * *

After school Clint waited for Natasha by the gates, his arms crossed over his chest as crowds of children pushed past him in their rush to get out of the school grounds. More than once he was bumped, and more than once he spun around, ready to confront whoever had knocked him only to find that they had already disappeared.

Clint scowled and shuffled his feet, scanning the sea of heads for any signs of Natasha. Usually, Clint was the one who was stuck behind in class or who took longer to collect all of his things. He had never understood why she became so frustrated at him afterwards, but now he was beginning to see why.

A teacher walked past him and then stopped, looking back expectantly.

Clint stared at her. "What?"

It was a teacher he didn't recognise. "Pardon?"

Clint fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Sorry. Could you repeat what you said?" He didn't really know if she had even said anything at all, but there was a good chance that she had, considering she'd stopped walking.

"Did you have a parent you were waiting for?" she asked kindly, smiling.

"Nah" he said, and scratched behind his ear, jostling his hearing aid accidentally. "Just a friend."

"There are some after school activities running at the moment, if your friend is going to be late" the teacher suggested.

"Um" Clint said, shifting uncomfortably and glancing over at the door to the school building just in time to see Natasha rush out, red curls loose around her face and backpack dangling from one arm. He smiled at her and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay, she's here now."

The teacher's eyebrows rose when she realised that Clint wasn't waiting for a friend to pick him up. She smiled at him as Natasha came to a stop beside them before she shuffled over to another child who was waiting by themselves.

Natasha watched the teacher leave closely, her cheeks flushed. "What does she want?"

"She thought I was waiting for a ride home" Clint explained as they left the school grounds. "She told me there were after school activities on or something."

"Oh" Natasha said. She swung her backpack up onto both shoulders and stuffed a piece of paper into her pocket too quickly for Clint to see what was on it.

Clint waited for Natasha to say something else, but she seemed to be finished speaking. He knocked shoulders with her as they crossed the road together and waited until she looked over at him to ask, "What did you put in your pocket?"

Natasha usually told Clint everything, and he couldn't help but wonder why she was being secretive now. It was only a piece of paper, as far as he could tell, and there would be no reason for her to hide it, unless it was extremely important.

Maybe he was thinking too much about it. He probably was, but it was hard not to worry about Natasha sometimes. He didn't want to seem like he was intruding and make her mad at him, he just wanted to make sure that she was okay.

Natasha shrugged and looked straight ahead. "Paper."

Clint frowned. "Oh. What was on it?"

Now Natasha turned to him, her eyes flashing. "Why is so important to know? Is just note. Is not for you, is for teachers."

"Sorry" Clint said, holding his hands up in the universal sign of peace. "I was just wandering, cause you were late and all."

Natasha huffed and sped up, her hands clenched into fists at her side. Clint let her go ahead, dragging his feet as he walked and kicking up dust behind him. He didn't understand why Natasha was so worked up about the note, but he knew by now not to push it any further with her. If she really wanted to talk to him about it then she would.

Clint saw his house come into view and internally groaned; he didn't want to go back already and start the homework that he'd been assigned. It wasn't that he couldn't be bothered, but more so that he didn't entirely understand what they were covering in class.

Natasha paused when she reached his driveway but didn't turn around to face him. He stopped behind her and waited, the sun burning the back of his neck and casting long shadows across the gravel road.

"I am sorry" Natasha eventually said. "Is not your business –"

"I know" Clint cut in, causing Natasha to spin around to face him. "I know that, I was just wondering and I shouldn't have pushed you, and –"

Natasha stuck her hand over his mouth, grinning at the look of shock on his face. "Is not your business, but thank you for taking time to ask. Is nice of you."

Clint licked her hand and she pulled back, her nose scrunched in horror. "What is problem with you?" she demanded playfully.

Clint laughed loudly, not understanding how Natasha could find that gross when they consistently shook hands that were coated in each other's saliva. After a moment of silent glaring on Natasha's behalf, broken only by the sounds of Clint's laughter, a smile slowly began to spread across Natasha's face and she too started to laugh.

"Is not funny" she complained in between giggles and gulps of breath. "Is... is not... Clint, _stop it_." She punched him in the arm, not as strongly as she would have managed if she had not been still laughing with him.

The moment was broken when Edith appeared on the front porch, wiping her hands against a dish towel and squinting against the sun. "Clint!" she called out, beckoning him in. "You need to come in and start your homework."

At least that's what he assumed she had said, seeing as he couldn't make out every word she was saying from where he was standing on the road.

Natasha signed for him, _she wants you to do homework_.

Clint nodded. _I thought so. Guess I'll see you tomorrow then_.

Natasha nodded and brushed her hair back behind her ears. It was starting to stick to her neck from the heat, which was slowly becoming uncomfortably hot. _Tomorrow._

"Do svidaniya" he said, testing out what little Russian he could remember, and a small smile graced Natasha's features at his attempt.

"Do svidaniya" she replied, and signed it to him as well.

Clint smiled and turned away, trying to imagine the look on her face when she was laughing and wishing that they could stay that way for just a little longer.

* * *

**Translations (sorry for any inaccuracy!):**

**Do svidaniya = Goodbye. **


	6. Chapter 5

**This is has taken so long to update, and I am so sorry. I started Year 12 this year and it is chaotic. Hopefully I will be able to get more chapters out. Finding the time to write has become a challenge. This chapter was something that wouldn't leave me, and I'm not even sure it really makes sense. I promise plot will be coming! Thank you for those of you who have stuck with this and put up with my horrible updating schedule, if you could even call it a schedule.**

**Please review and thank you x**

* * *

Natasha swung herself up onto a higher branch of the tree and observed the backyard of Clint's house. From below her Clint sat preparing his slingshot to launch another bag of marshmallows up to her; they had discovered early on that trying to carry the bags themselves had been too difficult, and had resorted to using the homemade slingshot instead.

"You ready?" Clint asked, twisting his neck so he could see her properly.

"I was born ready" Natasha called back, extending her hands out in front of her.

Clint rolled his eyes and pulled back the elastic on his slingshot. Closing one eye to focus his aim, he took a deep breath, letting go of the elastic as he exhaled. The bag of marshmallows flew upwards, barely missing several smaller branches before Natasha snatched it out of the air.

"Is all there is?" Natasha asked once the bag of marshmallows was safely nestled in her lap.

Clint stuck his slingshot in his back pocket and began the climb up to meet Natasha. "Uh, yea. That's it."

Natasha shuffled across slightly on the branch to make room for Clint. He pulled himself up beside her and leant against the trunk of the tree, breathing heavily.

Natasha knocked her shoulder against his. "You are tired already?"

Clint turned to glare at her. "It's hot. And I haven't climbed for a while."

"Baby" Natasha teased, smirking as he scowled.

"Whatever." Clint reached over her lap and grabbed a bag of marshmallows. "Where'd you put the chocolate?"

Natasha pulled a handful of small, slightly soft chocolate bars from her pocket. "Here."

"Okay" Clint muttered, opening the bag of marshmallows. "Take one of these."

Natasha reached into the bag and pulled out a white marshmallow. She squished it between her thumb and forefinger, brow crumpled as she inspected the candy. "Is _weird_."

Clint glanced over at Natasha and rolled his eyes. "But it _tastes good_. Trust me."

"I trust you. I always trust you." Natasha snorted and held the marshmallow gently in the palm of her hand. "Is not always good idea."

"Hey!" Clint exclaimed, struggling to wipe the huge grin off of his face as he tried to act offended. "I'm a very trustworthy person."

Natasha laughed, short and sharp like she wasn't sure she should be. "Okay. Show me this now."

Clint opened one of the chocolates before taking his own marshmallow and balancing it on top of the bar. He held it out for Natasha to inspect. "Ta da!"

"That is all?" Natasha asked, staring in confusion at the sweet.

"Uh, yea" Clint answered sheepishly, ducking his head slightly. "Well, not really. You need graham crackers. And the marshmallow is supposed to be all melted and gooey. But we couldn't do that."

"What is called again?" Natasha took her own chocolate and copied what Clint had done, holding the pieces together with both hands.

"S'more" Clint answered, trying to sign it with one hand. He quickly shoved the marshmallow and chocolate into his mouth before it could melt. "'Cepinoreonppfsfmop."

Natasha screwed her nose up. "What?"

Clint swallowed loudly and rubbed his hands down his short to wipe the leftover chocolate off of his fingers. "'Cept it's not a real one, so we can't exactly call it a s'more." He pointed to hers and frowned. "If you don't eat it quick the chocolate will melt everywhere."

Natasha took a small bite, and then another larger one until she had finished. She smiled widely at Clint and reached for more. "You are right. Is good."

"I told you" Clint boasted, already moving onto his third. Natasha knocked her shoulder against his and rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything else as she began to eat.

Clint watched his mother hang washing out on the clothesline, her movements slow and deliberate. He frowned as she bent and visibly winced, one hand absently moving to rub her lower back. Clint had watched his father push her into the kitchen door last night, and had heard her gasp as the doorknob jammed into her skin.

Clint didn't understand the laughter that had followed. Edith had smiled more brightly than he could ever remember. After that, he had retreated to his bedroom, his chest heavy with something he couldn't quite describe.

"Is nice" Natasha said suddenly, forcing Clint to tear his eyes away from his mother.

"What's nice?" Clint asked when she didn't elaborate.

"I don't know." Natasha hummed softly and leant back slightly, her hand gripping the branch for support. Clint watched her for a moment, worried that he might have missed something she had said, but she just smiled brightly and shook her head.

Clint didn't think he would ever fully understand Natasha. He liked everything about her, even when he was never really sure what would happen next between them. There was something about her that kept him anchored by her side, ready to fight any battle that may come their way.

"Do you think you could still love a person when they hurt you?" Clint heard himself asking. His eyes strayed back to his mother, but he felt Natasha sit up a little straighter beside him.

"What you mean?"

"Well" he started, and then realised that he didn't even really know what he meant himself. He looked back at Natasha and shrugged. "Like, someone hurts you and you know that it's a bad thing, and you know that it's wrong, but you keep making them dinner and you watch TV with them and you love them. Could you do that?"

Natasha frowned. "Is not making sense."

"When your uncle hurts you, do you still love him?"

Clint held his breath, suddenly scared that he had crossed some kind of invisible boundary between them. Natasha sighed loudly and rolled her head back, casting her gaze up towards the sky.

"Did I ever love him?" she breathed, and glanced over to meet Clint's gaze. "Is not love. Is never love."

"You have to love someone" Clint whispered.

"Love is for children" Natasha said, and it sounded so robotic, so unlike Natasha that it caught him off guard. He leant away from her instinctively, and then moved forward again when he realised what a stupid thing that was to do.

"I love my brother" Clint said. He lifted his hand to rest on her arm but let it drop before it could make contact. He wondered how long they would continue to reach out to each other only to stop themselves half way there. "I love my mum, too. She's really great."

Natasha's hand shot out and grabbed hold of his wrist, her grip vicelike and painful. Clint watched her and breathed deeply, trying to regain control of his racing heart.

"Is dangerous" she stressed, her eyes wild. "Is never love. Can never _be _love."

Clint shook his head slowly. "It can be love, Nat. I don't know how. I don't know if you can love someone who hurts you, either."

Natasha's brow crumpled, like she couldn't really comprehend what Clint was saying. Her grip on his wrist loosened slightly, but she kept her hand there, fingers pressed into the palm of his hand.

"Today is my birthday" she said softly, ducking her head. "Was not real birthday until I come here."

"What?" Clint exclaimed. "You didn't tell me it was your birthday until now? You didn't even give me a warning so I could get you something!"

"Is just a birthday" she drawled, smiling. "I never have present."

Clint gaped at her, but found that he honestly believed her when she said that she had never been given a birthday present in her life. He tried to think of something to say but came up with nothing.

"My present is sitting here" she said, pulling her hand out of his. "Is good here. Is safe."

Clint shrugged. "It's alright. What are you now? Like 10?"

"_Da_" Natasha grinned. "As old as you."

Clint laughed. "Not for long."

Natasha punched his shoulder, scowling. "Shut up."

They fell into a comfortable silence again. Clint wasn't sure how Natasha had managed to change the subject so smoothly, but was glad that she had. Even though he felt bad for not knowing her birthday, anything was better than watching the panic in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend love.

Whatever had happened between them moments ago left him feeling numb, like something had crawled under his skin and died there, but he couldn't quite feel it anymore.

"I'll get you a present one day" Clint told her. He picked up the almost empty bag of marshmallows and held it out in front of him. "When I have more pocket money or something."

He let the bag drop, watched as it hit the ground and stayed there. Natasha began to shove chocolate bars into her pockets. "_Spasibo_. Thank you." She signed it, too, maybe in case he hadn't understood it, or maybe because she just wanted to. Whatever her reason, it made Clint smile.

"_Pozhaluysta_" he replied, the word feeling chunky on his tongue.

The climb down was harder than the climb up. Clint let Natasha go first, afraid that he would slow her down, but for once they were evenly paced, and reached the ground within seconds of each other.

Clint gathered up the bag of marshmallows and led the way over to his house. By the back door Natasha paused and glanced into the bucket that they had used over a month ago to catch their tadpole. It shot up to the top of the water and swam in a wide circle, back legs kicking out behind it. Natasha took a step away, suddenly wary.

"He has legs" she said, and Clint turned quickly, confused.

"Oh" he said when he realised what she was talking about. "Its gonna be a frog soon. It grows legs and then arms and then its tail drops off or something."

Natasha screwed up her nose. "Is weird."

Clint grinned. "I think it's pretty great. Wait till it turns into a frog. That'll be cool."

"Cool" Natasha repeated slowly. She looked out at the sky and frowned. "I go now."

Clint tried to hide his disappointment as he left the marshmallows on the back step. Natasha passed him the remaining chocolate bars from her pockets and turned to leave.

The sun was bright and high in the sky as they walked down the gravel road slowly. Natasha kicked dust up as she dragged her feet, hands casting shadows in front of them. Clint watched her make a rabbit and then a dog, not saying anything.

Eventually her house came into view and she stopped walking. "Is far for you."

Clint shrugged. "Nah, its fine."

For a moment they stood in silence. Clint felt like saying something, but he didn't know what. The day had not turned out as he had expected, and he wanted to say something, _anything_, to somehow make things better. He didn't even know what he wanted to make better.

Clint looked at Natasha. She didn't look any older than she had yesterday. He wondered if turning 10 was supposed to make you look different, more grown up or something. He didn't think that he was grown up, and he'd been 10 for nearly a whole year.

_I'll see you at school_, Natasha signed eventually.

Clint nodded. _Sure. I'll bring you a birthday present or something._

_You don't have to do that_. Natasha smiled and punched his arm. _Bring me more s'mores instead. _

Clint spat on his hand and held it out to her, grinning when she copied him and they shook. _Deal. Happy birthday Nat. Sorry it wasn't…great. _

_Thank you_, she replied. _It's the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you._

_You're welcome_ Clint signed. _See you later._

Smiling, Natasha turned and continued down the road towards her house. Clint turned too, heading back in the opposite direction. The numb feeling under his skin didn't disappear. He thought about looking back, to convince Natasha to stay for a little longer. Maybe if he did, things would get better.

He didn't look back.

* * *

**Translations (sorry for any inaccuracy!):**

**Spasibo = thank you.**

**Pozhaluysta = you're welcome. **


	7. Chapter 6

**Once again, apologies for the lack of updating. I just started uni and things are hectic, but I feel like I'll (hopefully) be able to get some more writing done now. Finally, we're starting to get into the serious stuff!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has actually stuck with this story because I know my schedule is beyond ridiculous.**

**Please review and thank you x**

* * *

Clint took a deep breath and loosed an arrow on his exhale, watching it imbed itself perfectly in the centre of the target. He shifted his weight to his left leg and raised the other one into the air, balancing precariously on the tree stump. He nocked another arrow and tried to centre himself before drawing back and letting go of the bowstring.

The arrow landed exactly beside the first, and Clint couldn't help but grin and cheer in triumph. He had been practising after school for months, and it was beginning to show; he could shoot with both hands now, and didn't need to be completely grounded to do so.

Natasha clapped from her place on the ground behind him. He turned to face her, arms stretched out to the sides, and bowed dramatically, his body almost folded completely in half.

"Thank you, thank you" he said loudly, as if addressing a full audience instead of just Natasha. "I'll be back tomorrow for more world-class, Olympic gold medal worthy shots!"

Natasha was laughing so hard that she snorted. Clint stood up straight and stuck his tongue out at her before walking over to retrieve his arrows from his makeshift target. When he turned around again Natasha was doing a handstand, her face flushed from the rush of blood to her head.

"How many steps can you walk on your hands?" Clint called to her. He carefully placed the arrows back into his quiver and slung it up over his shoulder.

"I not count" she replied, and then frowned, her whole face scrunched. "I _do not_ count."

She flipped back onto her feet easily, her body lithe and agile. Clint could climb higher than Natasha, but he knew that she would always beat him in any race on the ground. Her reflexes were cat-like, almost too quick for someone of her size. She was fast, but she was still only 10 and half a head shorter than Clint.

"I count mine" Clint said, beaming. "I can do fifteen steps in a row."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his voice. "Prove it."

Clint placed his bow and quiver back on the ground, stretched his sore arms out in front of him, and then propelled himself forward into a handstand; even though it had been nearly a year since he had last done a handstand, he immediately remembered what to do in order to keep his balance as he began to walk.

Over the sound of blood rushing to his head he could hear Natasha begin to count, the words slightly distorted through his hearing aids.

"_Dva_,_ tri_, _chetyre_" she chanted, following along beside him. Clint tuned her out, focusing on his breathing and balancing his legs above him, until he felt his wrist give way and he fell to the ground. For a moment he just lay there, catching his breath, listening to the rush of the world around him. It was nice down there, with the grass tickling his cheek. He curled his fingers into the dirt and closed his eyes.

Natasha broke the silence. "_Semneadstat_. Is new world record."

Clint made an incoherent noise, too sore to contemplate getting up. The breeze felt good on the back of his legs. It was the kind of Saturday afternoon that he could enjoy slowly; the hours seemed to drag on forever, the sun maintaining its warmth and making the day seem endless.

Natasha was silent. Clint opened one eye slowly to see that she had spread herself out on the ground too, her head resting on her folded arms as she stared at him.

"What?" he asked her when she didn't look away.

Natasha shook her head and averted her gaze, her lips pulled up into an almost smile. She breathed in deeply, face turned to the sun.

Clint stretched his arms out to either side. "I can't wait for Christmas break."

"_Nyet_" Natasha answered. "I do not celebrate."

Although Clint was shocked, he was not as shocked as he would have been if this was a conversation he was having with anyone else. It didn't really surprise him that Natasha wouldn't celebrate something like Christmas. Technically, _he_ didn't even really celebrate Christmas, not in the way that normal families did; growing up in the circus, his parents had rarely had enough money to buy any presents.

Regardless of whether or not he was given anything, Clint still loved Christmas.

"Fair enough" Clint murmured, not pushing the issue. "But, anyway. Break will be cool."

Natasha turned back to him and studied him silently, her brow slightly furrowed. He maintained eye contact with her, feeling something heavy settle in his stomach, like her gaze was physically holding him down to the ground.

After a moment she stretched her own arms out until her fingertips just touched Clint's. He watched her carefully, resisting the urge to shuffle forward and take her hand in his own. Her smile was soft but there was something missing from her eyes; they were filled with a type of sadness that Clint had never seen before.

He didn't want to move. He never wanted to move again. It would be nicer for them to stay there in the grass, under the warm sun with the fresh air making them sleepy. He knew that he could lie there for eternity and easily forget about his parents and Natasha's uncle.

She sighed deeply and turned her head back to the sun. Her hair hung around her face, almost glowing in the fading afternoon light. Her fingers brushed against Clint's again, the touch barely there, and yet he felt it deep in his bones.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was how their friendship would remain; intangible moments of stretching out for each other, too afraid to reach further in fear of breaking the silence, too afraid to reach further in fear of rejection.

* * *

Clint sighed as he shut his bedroom door behind him, staring forlornly at the pile of clothes on his bed. Edith usually put his clothes in his drawers for him, mainly because he always managed to ruin her perfect folding but also because she just wanted to. Clint made his bed and put his dirty laundry out, so it wasn't like he never helped. When his dad was home he even washed the dishes.

He considered leaving the clothes for the morning but knew that he would only continue to put it off. He separated his shirts and pants into two piles before stomping his way over to his drawers. He was trying to stuff the first shirt on top of another when there was a soft knock on the door and Edith entered the room.

"Oh, sorry sweetie. I was going to come back to that" she said, walking over to take over from Clint. He made his way back to his bed, where he took a seat whilst Edith put the clothes away.

He didn't mind that she called him names like 'sweetie' and 'honey'. He knew boys at his school that would turn away in disgust, wiping their mother's kisses off their cheeks as soon as they possible could. Clint loved his mum, and especially loved moments like these, when his dad wasn't around and everything was calm.

"So" Edith began, breaking Clint's train of thought. "How's school been going?"

"Yea good" Clint answered half-heartedly. It wasn't that he didn't like school; he was just indifferent to it. He found some of the work difficult, especially English, because he had never learnt to read or write in the circus. He didn't feel so bad about it around Natasha, knowing that she struggled too, but even then her excuse was more understandable than his own. English wasn't even her first language.

"Just good?" Edith questioned, shutting his drawer softly. "Has anything exciting happened?"

Clint shrugged. "Not really. Sometimes kids fight on the playground."

Edith sat next to him and wrapped her arm around his body, pulling him to her side. "I hardly see you anymore. You're always playing with Natasha."

Clint felt his heart stop, sure that his mother would tell him that he wouldn't be able to see Natasha anymore. It was true that he spent most of his time after school and on the weekends with Natasha, trying to spend as much time as he possible could away from home. He loved his mother and brother, but when his father was around he just wanted to run away.

"Yea," he said slowly, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. "She's my best friend."

"Hmmm" Edith hummed against his head, her lips pressed into his hair. "She's a nice girl. I'm glad you found a friend, honey."

Clint nodded. "Yea, she's pretty great."

It had been harder for Clint to make friends than it had been for Barney. He knew that Edith knew that, because after his first few weeks of school she had tried to get Clint to attend activities at school in hopes that he would find someone to talk to. She hadn't realised that no body would want to be friends with a kid that had bulky hearing aids and no real social skills.

Thankfully, Natasha hadn't made any other friends either, so he wasn't worried about losing her.

"I'm really proud of you" Edith said eventually, placing one last kiss on his temple before she stood to continue putting his clothes in his drawers.

Though he couldn't be sure, he thought he saw her wipe a tear away.

* * *

After saying goodnight to his mother and brushing his teeth, Clint turned his light out and tried to navigate through his room so that he could get into bed. He always forgot to turn his lamp on before he turned the light out, despite going through the same problem each night.

He reached his bed, found the switch for his lamp and watched as the room filled with soft light. He pulled the covers back and climbed in, sighing as his head hit the pillow. It had been a long day, and his back was sore from practising his archery.

He had taken one hearing aid out and was reaching for the second when he heard, very faintly, a kind of knocking sound against the wall furthest from his bed. He froze, waiting to see if it happened again, and when it did he quickly put both aids back in and switched off the lamp, lying still beneath the covers.

His heart hammered in his chest as he listened carefully, his eyes fixed on the window that didn't have curtain installed on it yet. People walking around the house and knocking on things never meant anything good, he knew that, but he couldn't find it in himself to get up and run to Barney's room.

It was then that he noticed a flash of something red just below the windowsill, and it wasn't a second later when two bright green eyes popped over the ledge. In the dim moonlight, it was hard to make out the shape of a head, but Clint knew those eyes and that hair anywhere. He felt his heart rate slow immediately.

Without pausing to wonder why Natasha would be at his window at this time of night, he threw off the covers and made his way over to the window to open it. Natasha was standing on the tree branch directly below his window, yet she was still too short to pull herself up any further than her eyes.

"What're you doing?" he asked, crouching beside the window.

Natasha rolled her eyes. He couldn't see her mouth but he could imagine her frown. "What it look like?" she hissed. "You help or no?"

Clint took her hands and helped pull her up and through his window. Natasha used the slats of the house to help her propel herself forward, until they had managed to half-drag half-launch her through the window and onto Clint's carpeted floor.

Panting, they stared at each other in the light of the moon. It occurred to Clint that this was the first time that Natasha had ever been inside of his room, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care that much. Even though it was late, stranger things had happened with her.

"So" Clint said when it became apparent that Natasha wasn't going to say anything. "What're you doing?"

Natasha shrugged, her skin almost transparent in the dim light. She stood up, her body tense, and walked over to take a seat on his bed.

Clint stared after her for a moment, trying to comprehend what was happening. Natasha had just walked for twenty minutes to get to his house, and now that she was here she wouldn't even tell him _why_.

"I was going to bed" Clint said, mostly to fill the silence. He stood up when she didn't answer and got back into bed, lying down with his head angled towards her. She glanced at him and then very slowly moved so that she was laying down too, her hair tickling Clint's cheek. The bed was almost too small, but Natasha had curled up so that was barely taking up any room. Her large eyes remained unblinking on Clint's face.

"You okay Nat?" he asked softly.

She shrugged again and sighed, her breath warm on his face. "Is hard" she whispered eventually. "I go back."

Clint frowned, not understanding what she was trying to say. "Go back home?"

"_Nyet_" she said. "Back to Russia."

Clint felt like everything stopped. His heart stopped, time stopped, everything just _ended_. He felt sick. He wasn't sure if he had heard her right, but when he finally managed to look back at her face he could tell that she was being serious. That thing missing from her eyes was happiness, like it had all been sucked out of her. He couldn't think of what to say.

She pressed something into his hand, and it took all of his strength to bring it up to his face. It was a piece of paper. Some part of him recognised it as _the _piece of paper, the note that she had tucked away so quickly from him that day after school that felt like an eternity ago.

He could barely make out the writing in the dark, and he didn't want to turn the lamp back on in case she saw just how upset he was. He took a deep breath and let his hand fall to his stomach.

"Dear teacher, Natalia go to Russia for whole month to see family for Christmas" Natasha recited, the anger clear in her voice. "She will do work when she get there. She be back in time for new class."

She was so mad that Clint could feel it in her body. Her hands were shaking where they were pressed against his side.

"Natalia has no family" she spat. "No Christmas. Is all lie."

"Why?" Clint whispered, his voice hoarse. "You said that your uncle said no. You said that you weren't going back."

"Is for operation" Natasha said quietly. "Is Uncle Ivan's idea."

Clint swallowed hard. "Like, like a secret mission?"

Natasha shook her head, her hair falling all over the pillow. "No, like… Like. What is word?" She frowned, trying to piece the sentence together. "Like when you sick."

"Surgery?" Clint said incredulously. "Are you sick?"

"No. Is not for sick. Is for something else. Uncle Ivan not tell me."

Clint let out a deep breath, trying not to think about what kind of operation they would do to a ten-year-old Russian spy. He scrunched the note into a ball in his fist, trying to calm himself down. He had known Natasha for close to five months now, but it felt like he had known her for longer. Her friendship meant more to him than anything else.

"Is okay, Clint" she said softly, as though reading his thoughts. "I come back."

"This is stupid" Clint said. "This is the stupidest, most worst thing to ever happen."

Natasha smiled softly, her hand moving as though to rest on his arm before she paused and let it hover in the air between them. Clint rolled onto his side so that he could face her properly, could really see what she was feeling.

"When you come back we should run away" he whispered. "Go somewhere where no one can beat us up."

Natasha laughed, the sound barely there. "We can have dog."

"And a house with purple walls and yellow furniture and green carpet and a blue roof" he added, smiling.

"And cat" she said. "And place for archery. Big space for handstands."

Clint could almost pretend that nothing had changed, even though everything had changed. She would only be gone for a month, he told himself, but a month seemed like the longest amount of time that anyone could ever leave for. She would miss his eleventh birthday.

"No one will ever touch us there" Clint said. "Not my dad, not your uncle. Not even the biggest badies in the whole world."

Natasha nodded, smiling softly. "I go tomorrow."

Clint felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but he didn't let it show. He just smiled back at her and breathed deeply. "That's okay. After you come back, we can leave and have all the time in the world."

Natasha brought her hands up between them, and signed right up in Clint's face so that he could make it out in the dark. _I will miss you_.

_Keep safe,_ Clint signed back. _I'll miss you too_.

Natasha closed her eyes then, her fingers wrapped around the sleeve of Clint's shirt. He didn't want to move to take his hearing aids out but knew that he needed to, and so carefully manoeuvred around Natasha so as not to disturb her.

The world descended into silence. Clint could feel Natasha's breath on his face, could imagine the sound that it would make. Tomorrow was going to be hard, but right now he wasn't worried.

In the dark, with her at his side, he felt invincible.

* * *

**Translations (sorry for any inaccuracy!):**

**Dva = two.**

**Tri = three.**

**Chetyre = four.**

**Semneadstat = seventeen.**


End file.
